


the clouds shall pass (the sun will shine again)

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [96]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (assumed) major character death, Happy Ending, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, i promise newt and herms get a happy ending, newt writes a love letter via music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Hermann explains as he puts a few boxes of chalk into a packing box. “Per Marshal Hansen’s orders, we need to get all of our items cleared out from the Shatterdome within the next two days, when the PPDC Council will declare the Shatterdome officially decommissioned.”“Damn,” Newt whistles, “that was fast.”“Yes, well,” Hermann gives a wry smile, “people tend to notice when a giant inter-dimensional portal they’ve been monitoring for a decade up and collapses.”





	the clouds shall pass (the sun will shine again)

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Would you be willing to write this? "Did you tell him you loved him?" + "He knew." + "But he deserved to hear it from you.""

In the aftermath—

In the aftermath, he sleeps; too burnt out to care about the way his neck's bent, or the mud and blood on his skin and clothes; Hermann's presence heavy, both in his mind and by his side, the both of them in the medical bay.

For a few hours, as he sleeps, Newt dreams not of images but of emotion; possibility, not yet daring enough to put into thought. He dreams that somehow, when the dust settles, things will go back to..._normal._ Whatever that means anymore. Still—he is...content, in a way.

And then morning comes, light seeping insipidly through his eyelids; Newt groans.

"Good morning, Doctor Geiszler," says a voice, more cheerfully than should be legal. "You're good to go."

"Thanks," Newt mutters, and squints; the chair is empty, no trace of Hermann. Oh well—he's probably busy packing his stuff up, like Newt should be. He levers himself up; stands gingerly, and then lets out a sigh of relief when he doesn't get dizzy and there's no sign of blood—"Hey!" he says, indignantly, "where's my jacket?"

The nurse gives him a small smile. "Doctor Gottlieb took it with him," she says, "said something about its scent."

Newt grumbles. "Alright," he says, "I'll just be going, then," and ducks out down the hallway.

Hermann is, as a matter of fact, in the lab packing up his stuff; he's changed into a clean shirt and sweater, and his hair is fluffed; he must have showered recently. "Newton," he says, without looking up from his task, "I took the liberty of fetching you a change of clean cloths—yours reek."

"They do _not,_" Newt protests, but he gladly takes the graphic-t and jeans and makes use of the decontamination shower as a makeshift shower.

Hermann does grace him with a scowl when he gets out. "Your quarters are just down the hall," he says.

Newt shrugs. "'S faster," he says. "So, what's the deal on the pack-up?"

Hermann explains as he puts a few boxes of chalk into a packing box. "Per Marshal Hansen's orders, we need to get all of our items cleared out from the Shatterdome within the next two days, when the PPDC Council will declare the Shatterdome officially decommissioned."

"Damn," Newt whistles, "that was fast."

"Yes, well," Hermann gives a wry smile, "people tend to notice when a giant inter-dimensional portal they've been monitoring for a decade up and collapses."

* * *

So: they pack up.

It happens.

Well—life, that is; Hermann gets an offer at one university, and Newt's basically begged by MIT to come back. They're halfway across the world from each other almost before Newt even realises it, their only contact once again through email.

He doesn't miss it, he tries to convince himself; why'd he miss it—Hermann screaming at him, throwing chalk at him, telling him off for stupid ideas...well, okay, that last one is probably a good reason, but come on, let a man live a little.

And—

"Welp," he says, flatly, staring at his ceiling in the little one-bed apartment, "fuck."

Because the thing is—he misses Hermann terribly.

So, because Newt, at heart, is a musician, he does what he does best: he throws on some clothes and goes to the nearest Walmart, buys a shitty fifty-dollar guitar, and pours every ounce of emotion into it for the next few hours, pausing intermittently to scribble down notes.

He's pretty sure the neighbours hate him now, but he falls asleep with a smile on his face, laptop open to Hermann's last email; something about joining a research team for some field-work, nothing terribly important, but there, at the bottom, in neat Times New Roman:

_Yours,_

_Hermann_

* * *

The euphoria from the night before shatters like a teacup on tile the next morning when he goes to Google something; because there, in his newsfeed, is an article that quickens his heart, jackrabbiting against his chest:

_Ocean field expedition, including war hero Doctor Hermann Gottlieb, PhD, disappears without a trace during storm._

He goes the day in a daze; Hermann's gone—_gone._

Days drag into weeks and there's no news on progress with the search for the missing vessel. Newt's guitar—not the shitty Walmart one, but his actual guitar, finally unpacked in anticipation of more use—sits in the back of his closet, gathering dust; the sheets with the song he wrote for Hermann on them shoved at the bottom of his desk-drawer that he never uses.

Newt wonders if this is what losing someone feels like; you know they're gone, but they're still there, almost; somehow.

He hunts down Hermann's best friend who the other mentioned a few times, gives her a call, hoping—

_Something._

The phone only rings a few times before it picks up. "Yeah?"

The voice is deep; Newt thinks fleetingly of playing in the woods when he was younger, Vanessa chasing after him as she laughs, voice deeper than his, kinky hair braided elaborately; a game to try and cheer her up for the kids at school who bully her for it; remembers telling her he thinks it sounds beautiful—no, remembers _Hermann_ telling her it's beautiful

He swallows. "Vanessa?" he says, hesitantly, "my name is Newt—Newton Geiszler. I was...I was wondering if you'd be willing to just..." he trails off. "Fuck," he says, and his voice trembles. "Sorry, I just—I miss him so goddamn _much._"

There's a long silence, and then—"Newt?" says Vanessa, "oh, shit, like, _war hero_ Newt? _That_ Newt?"

"Yeah," Newt says, with a watery laugh. "I—I just..." he pauses.

"You need someone to talk to?" Vanessa fills in.

Newt nods. "Yeah," he says. "Um. If you don't...if you don't mind."

There's a shuffling of papers, and then Vanessa says, "Hang on a sec, lemme get you on speaker—I need to drive, but I can talk so long as I keep my eyes on the road."

"Thanks," Newt says, softly.

It takes a bit—because, apparently, Newt's not so great when he's been repressing his emotions (who would have guessed) but Vanessa is patient, and even though they don't know each other, she's more than willing to tell Newt about her own memories of Hermann in an attempt to comfort him.

"Thanks," Newt says, finally; his voice hoarse. "I should, uh, probably let you go—sorry it, um, took so long."

"Hey, don't worry," Vanessa says, "it's...I get it, okay?"

"I just..." he trails off. "I wish that I had told him more," he says, finally.

There's a pause. "Did you tell him you loved him?" Vanessa asks, softly.

"I—" Newt swallows; scrubs away tears. "He knew," he says, instead.

"But he deserved to hear it from you," Vanessa finishes, and there's understanding, there. "Newt..." she pauses. "Look, I don't know you, and I don't know what your relationship with Hermann was, exactly, but...don't blame yourself, yeah?" More quietly, she adds, "He wouldn't...he wouldn't want you to."

Newt's throat tightens; unable to speak, he merely nods, though the other can't see it.

* * *

"Doctor G!"

Newt slows to a walk to let the student catch up with him; it's one of his kids from Kaiju Biology, and the kid bounces over and shoves her phone at him. "Look!" she says, "they found him—they found Doctor Gottlieb! And he's alright!"

"_What?_" Newt demands, and snatches the phone; skims the article, and feels faint. "Oh my god," he says, softly, and hands her back her phone; could cry, because, fuck—"Oh my god," he says, again; like a broken record.

When he gets back home, he digs out the guitar and the music, buys a plane ticket to England, sends an email to MIT that he'll be gone for the next few days, and hops on the plane a few hours later.

The hospital Hermann's in nearly refuses to let him in until Newt says something, in desperation, about Drift partners and he's Newton _fucking_ Geiszler, let me _see him._

It works, though, in the end; because a few minutes later, he's shown to Hermann's room.

The other's laying, fairly uninjured, though far too thin, beneath a hospital sheet, his eyes closed, but breath not even enough to be asleep. Newt pulls a chair over and drops his bag, pulls out his guitar. "Hey, Herms," he says, voice cracking. "How are ya?"

"Newton?" Hermann's eyes snap open. "Newton!" he exclaims, and his hand shoots out to grab Newt's, pulling him forward.

"Woah, buddy," Newt laughs, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm happy to see you too." _I missed you,_ he doesn't say.

"Newton," Hermann says, again, and his eyes land on the guitar. "What's that for?"

Newt grins through the tears. "I wrote you a song," he says, "and I figured I should play it now, 'cause I almost missed my chance last time, and I don't want you to die without having said I love you."

Hermann's hand slackens for a moment, and then he says, "Oh, Newton," and then stops, overcome.

_Me too, bud,_ Newt thinks, and begins to strum the strings, watching Hermann's expression light up as he starts to sing softly.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [pacificrimdyke](https://pacificrimdyke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
